


A game of cat and mouse

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Breathplay, Hate Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turgon finds the best way to shut Curufin up (or maybe he's just playing into Curufin's game).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A game of cat and mouse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the breathplay square on my Season of Kink card.

Curufinwë soundlessly crept up behind his cousin, aided in that by the rugs covering the floor of Turucáno's private sitting room all the way to the balcony, so that Turucáno became aware of his presence exactly when Curufinwë wanted him to – when he laid a hand on his left shoulder and squeezed lightly. 

“I have heard you are getting married,” he said.

Turucáno instantly tensed, his shoulders hunching over, and muttered an imprecation under his breath. Of course Curufinwë would have something to say about his upcoming marriage. He shook his cousin's hand off his shoulder, telling himself to remain calm. It was hard around Curufinwë. Just catching sight of him sometimes was enough to put him in a sour mood. 

“The whole town has heard,” he said after a rather long interval, when it became apparent that Curufinwë wouldn't leave and instead laid his hand right on the middle of Turucáno's back.

“A Vanya,” Curufinwë drawled. 

“You are married to a Vanya.” 

“I am indeed, but you'll agree she doesn't behave like one. She has a bit more...character to her.”

Turucáno twisted in his chair to glare at his cousin. “Elenwë is a resolute enough individual, and it is _not_ my problem if you cannot appreciate that,” he said, hoping to sound both firm and scathing. 

He went back to writing, doing his best to concentrate, but Curufinwë leant in, ostensibly to examine his calligraphy. He was so close, in fact, that Turucáno felt his breath tickle his ear, and had to suppress a shiver. 

“Well, she does look fuckable enough, at least...like your grandmother,” Curufinwë mumbled after a while.

Turucáno froze, a blotch of ink pooling on the paper as he jabbed the nib of his pen against it. The next moment he sprang to his feet, his chair screeching on the marble floor with his vehemence. Curufinwë backed away, but not far enough to be outside of his reach. He had the gall to lift one eyebrow, too, as if he were surprised that Turucáno was angry. 

“Unsay what you just said.”

Curufinwë lifted his other eyebrow too, faking innocence. “Why?”

“Unsay it!”

“I don't see any reason why I should apologise for speaking the truth.” 

Turucáno dashed at him and gripped his left arm, then his right. He was much taller, and if not as muscled as Curufinwë, not any less strong. He forcibly pushed him towards the nearest wall, almost lifting him wholly off the floor. 

“Unsay it!” 

“I would, believe me, if I saw any good reason to.”

“You -” Turucáno's voice rose – he nearly screamed, but at the same time his right hand wrapped around Curufinwë's throat. He squeezed, and squeezed, until Curufinwë's eyes widened and his mouth opened, struggling to get air in. 

He had an idea. 

“Very well,” he said, releasing Curufinwë's neck. His hands landed heavily on top of his cousin's shoulders. He forced him to fall to his knees, even as Curufinwë gasped for breath, and pushed his head against the wall. He stood before him, completely trapping him. 

His right hand went back to Curufinwë's neck. With his free hand, he pulled out his cock, glad that he was wearing comfortable house clothes, and guided it to Curufinwë's mouth. He didn't stop to think that they were on an open balcony, and anybody could see them from the upper floors. All he could think of was Elenwë's sweet smile and how Curufinwë would smear mud on it. 

“Let's see who's fuckable,” he hissed, brushing the tip of his shaft over Curufinwë's lips. “Lick it.”

Curufinwë flicked his tongue teasingly over the slit then clamped his lips shut.

“Don't hold back now," Turucáno taunted, "put to some good use that canny mouth of yours.”

“Oh, I have already.” 

Turucáno's eyes darkened. His hand tightened around Curufinwë's neck again. “Suck. me.”

Curufinwë gave a wry chuckle and did as his cousin demanded. He stuck his tongue between his lips to wet them, then parted them. Turucáno momentarily slackened the pressure on his neck, and Curufinwë bent forward to suckle on his cockhead. 

He was given little time for build-up. Turucáno didn't want gentle pleasure, a slow sweet amplification of it. Pleasure itself was secondary to the desire to get back at Curufinwë, therefore as soon as he was hard enough he pushed his cousin's head back again, and plunged deep inside his mouth. Curufinwë gurgled and inhaled sharply through his nose, but didn't try to get away. He didn't even gag, though that barely registered with Turucáno as he began to thrust in his cousin's mouth, and in his throat, quickly giving himself over to the thrill of burying himself deeper and deeper in _that_ warm wetness. 

“You can't say anything now, can you?” he grunted, “always so high-and-mighty, always generously dispensing your oh-so-charming wit.”

His hand slid up and clutched Curufinwë's jaw. He pushed his cock in until his balls were squished against the older elf's chin, and all of his cock sheathed in his throat.

Curufinwë struggled to breathe through his nose, his throat muscles spasming around the hardness stretching it, but he forced himself to stay still.

Turucáno remained like that for a while, then pulled out with a moan.

“Snotty...crybaby,” Curufinwë huffed, spittle mixed with Turucáno's precome dribbling in thick streaks down his chin and onto his embroidered shirt.

Turucáno shoved into his mouth again, thrusting forcefully in and out, not caring if Curufinwë's mouth were to be bruised or if he were to choke, reveling in the sounds of gurgling and drooling. He bared his teeth in a vicious smirk. His hand still clenched Curufinwë's neck – not too tight. The fact that he could tighten his grip at any time if he wanted to was enough. 

He withdrew again only when the first spurt of his seed had already shot inside Curufinwë's throat, and shot the rest of it over Curufinwë's face, stepping back with a satisfied groan when he was done. He took his time savouring the sense of triumph that rushed through him before tucking his cock back inside his trousers.

After a time he looked down. Curufinwë knelt, his eyes closed and his face a wet mess, alternately coughing or panting noisily. He didn't seem to stop, and in spite of his lingering excitement, Turucáno began to fear that he had gotten too carried away and actually hurt him. 

“Don't worry about that, my virtuous cousin,” Curufinwë said hoarsely. It was uncanny – how he seemed to be able to read minds without touching them. Or maybe he simply knew Turucáno too well. “My legs are somewhat numb, but I'm none the worse for wear,” he croaked on, holding a hand out towards him. 

Turucáno helped him up, steadying him while he regained sensation in his legs. 

“And of course,” Curufinwë intoned again, seizing the hem of Turucáno's shirt, his voice already a little firmer, “if you had indeed gone too far, getting married would not have enabled you to have any heirs.” 

Turucáno flinched. Curufinwë grinned and began wiping his face clean.


End file.
